by Louise Rose
“We’ll see.” If I make it in music, it will be despite my father, not because of him. Music is the one thing that is mine. I’m not going to taint my career with his influence.
“Anyway,” Isabella continues. “Your father sent me to get you. He wants the two of you to make an entrance together.”
Of course. I nod with a forced smile.
“Are you ready?”
I shrug. “As much as I’ll ever be, I guess.”
My father’s face lights up as I walk into his study. He is wearing a tuxedo, and I have to admit he looks good.
“There’s my beautiful girl,” he says. “Or rather, beautiful woman. You’re not a girl anymore. I wish your mother could be here to see you. She has to be so happy to know you are taking up the family business.”
I am not so sure she would, but I don’t bother to correct him.
He picks up a plain black mask and slips it over his face. With the mask on, he seems even more sinister than normal, as if he can do anything and get away with it. A shudder runs down my spine as I take the arm he offers me. He might be my father, but I have a feeling he wouldn’t hesitate to deal with me as ruthlessly as he would anyone else if I rebelled against him.
This is why I was biding my time playing the game by his rules for now. I was only going to get one chance to escape, so I needed to take it when it came. Until then, knowledge is power. The more people think I am happy to go along with my father’s ambitions, the more they let down their guard around me and I might learn something useful.
My father escorts me through the labyrinth of corridors, taking me upstairs to the first floor to where there is a landing overlooking the ballroom. Since I’m not allowed to explore the house by myself yet, I try to pay careful attention to where we are going, but I quickly get lost in the enormous building.
All thoughts of escape are gone when I see what is waiting for me in the ballroom. The place is filled with people in masks. Even the wait staff wear simple black and white masks as they smoothly weave in and out of the crowd to offer food and drinks to the guests. Even if they weren't wearing masks, I wouldn’t know who most of the people are–there are simply more guests than people I know, even taking into account everyone I have met at the Academy. I can see a table that spreads the length of one side of the room absolutely filled with wrapped gifts. I can’t imagine what can be inside–it isn’t like anyone knew me well enough to know what to buy me. I suppose they must be expensive things chosen to show off their wealth and grovel to my father rather than anything bought with love.
My father leads me to the top of the stairs, where a man in an ornate frock coat is waiting, trumpet in hand. As we approach, he raises the trumpet to his lips and blows a fanfare. At the sound, the room falls quiet.
“I had the fanfare written especially for you,” my father whispers to me, as the trumpeter clears his throat.
“Solomon Archaic presents his eighteen-year-old daughter, Ivy Archaic.”
I find myself questioning the point of the masks if my father is going to just tell everyone who I am, but there is no time to wonder about things like that, as the room erupts into a hail of applause. There are whistles and cheers and shouts of ‘happy birthday!’ as we descend the stairs to join the crowd.
Masked guests reach out to pat me on the back as we walk past them and towards the stage. My father is clearly in his element, as he walks through the crowd, taking me up to where there is an elevated platform with the band’s instruments waiting for them to play. He goes to the central microphone stand and taps the mic to see if it’s on.
“Ladies and gentlemen, those of House Archaic and our allies in Navarre, Dauphin, and Knight,” he begins. “Thank you all for coming to celebrate my beloved daughter Ivy’s coming of age. As I’m sure you all know, Ivy and I were separated until very recently. You have no idea how much it means to me to have my daughter back by my side to ensure the future prosperity of House Archaic. I would ask you to raise your glasses and join me in a toast to wish my daughter a very happy birthday.”
“Happy birthday, Ivy!” came the chorus, followed by more applause.
“And now I call upon Ivy to say a few words.”
He steps back and gestures to me to take his place at the mic.
I gulp.
“I haven’t prepared a speech!” I whisper, hating the thought of having to speak in front of all those people.
“Be a good girl and just say thank you.” My father smiles through gritted teeth. “Now.”
I step forward and adjusted the mic so I can speak into it.
“Er… I have to admit that this is all a little overwhelming,” I begin. “I wasn’t expecting to be celebrating my eighteenth birthday in such a grand manner. I’m used to quiet nights in with some birthday cake. So I’m very grateful to see you all. It means a lot to know you think so much of my father to be here for my birthday. Thank you all for coming and I hope you all have a great night.”
“That’s my girl,” says my father, his words almost inaudible over the cheers. He takes over the mic again.
“One final announcement,” he says. “We’ve been lucky enough to get an amazing band to play for us tonight. I would like you all to put your hands together and welcome to the stage; Lost in Oblivion!”
People don’t just clap–they scream! I am too stunned to say anything as I see my favourite band walking towards me. Joey McIntyre, the lead singer, kisses me on the cheek.
“Happy birthday, Ivy,” he says. “Any special requests you’d like us to play?”
“Y-you’re so sweet?” I stammer, naming one of my favourite songs.
“Great choice!” Joey grins as he takes the mic from my father and we leave the stage. “Good evening, House Archaic! We are Lost in Oblivion and as a personal favour to the birthday girl, this is You’re So Sweet!”
Leo Grayson, the lead guitarist, starts strumming, the bass joining in to power through a rock riff that has kept the song at the top of the charts for three weeks. The teenagers in the room surge forward to crowd round the stage as Joey starts singing. Out of the corner of my eye I see my father disappearing off with another man in a suit. I should have known he was going to talk business at my birthday party. I suppose I should be grateful that he has given me as much attention as he had.
But I won’t feel sorry for myself. Lost in Oblivion are playing at my freaking birthday party!
I dance, closing my eyes to drink in the music. Forget about being lost in oblivion–it is more like lost in the music, my body becoming one with every note.
I am under no illusion that this is my party. I know hardly anyone here, and this is more about my father making a statement than me having fun. Fortunately, as the bullied foster kid, I was used to going out by myself, so it doesn’t bother me that I am on my own while dancing. Milly is probably around somewhere, but with so many people desperate to get within touching distance of the band, I don’t blame her for not coming to say hello.
As one song finishes, another begins and another, each one bringing me to the verge of tears with how powerful they are. Lost in Oblivion are even better live than they are on their albums.
“Okay, we’re going to take things down a notch now,” announces Joey. “So if there’s someone you’ve had your eye on, now’s your chance to grab them and get up close and personal!”
Leo started playing the mournful opening notes of I loved you just to lose you, a ballad which had been Christmas’ number one a couple of years ago. I decide that this is my cue to go and get something to eat, but as I turn to find a waiter, a masked man steps in front of me. He is wearing a hooded black mask which conceals his hair as well as most of his face. Silently, he holds out a hand, making it clear he wants to dance with me.
“I don’t know. I was going to get some food…”
The man shakes his head and puts out his hand again.
“Okay. I guess I’m dancing!”
I take his hand and let him pull me close. T
here is something rather exciting about dancing with someone when you can’t see what they look like. Tall, I was pretty certain this isn’t Declan trying to make up for cheating on Ally with me, but beyond that, I don’t have a clue who the stranger can be.
He sure smells good though. Closing my eyes, I inhale his aftershave, the musky scent that is all man and slightly familiar. I drift off into a fantasy that this is my boyfriend and we are having a romantic slow dance together alone in my suite. Whoever this man is, we fit perfectly together. My head rests against his chest while his arms around me make me feel secure, as if he would protect me against anything or anyone who might want to hurt me.
All too soon the song comes to an end, and the truth is? I am alone. I don’t have anyone I can trust on my side. My life here will always be full of lies and secrets. Reluctantly, I pull away from my dance partner as Lost in Oblivion begins playing an upbeat number.
“Thank you,” I say, wishing we could have danced for longer.
My regret must have shown on my face because the man held out his hand to me. Taking it, I follow him away from the stage. Passing a waiter, he stops to take a glass of champagne, handing it to me before taking another for himself. Then we carry on walking, leaving the ballroom and out through a set of double doors to the grounds outside.
We aren’t alone, a few people dot about having conversations away from the loud music. My companion takes me past them, further away from the house. I begin to wonder whether it is a good idea to leave my party with a stranger like this. What if this is another kidnap attempt? It is a crazy thought, but then my life has been pretty crazy these past couple of weeks.
Just as I am about to suggest we go back, I realise we are heading towards a tall hedgerow. Without breaking his stride, the masked man takes me through a gap in the hedge and into a hedge-lined corridor.
“Is this… a maze?” I ask.
My companion doesn’t reply, but he turns to face me and nods as he continues to lead me through the lanes. He must be familiar with the maze because he leads me through a number of junctions without hesitating before we eventually reach a clearing. In the middle is a water fountain with a statue in the centre, a bench next to it so you can sit and listen to the sound of water trickling into the pool.
“I guess that’s one way to get a bit of privacy,” I say. “I had no idea this was out here. But then there’s a lot about this place I don’t know.”
Whoever my companion is, he smiles sadly, reaching out to tuck a stray tendril of blonde hair behind my ear.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispers in a low voice I can hardly hear. There is something about his voice which is familiar, but I can’t quite place it. “May I kiss you to wish you a happy birthday?”
This is weird. I have no idea who this guy is or even what he looks like under that huge mask. But then again, it is my birthday, and I deserve a kiss at least.
I take a large mouthful of my champagne for Dutch courage.
“Sure. Why not?”
I don’t know what I was expecting, but it isn’t the tender, romantic gesture that came next.
The man lightly cups the back of my head, pulling me to him. He kisses me lightly, as if sounding out how I really feel about him kissing me. Just like our dance, there is something which felt intrinsically right about being here with him.
I opened my mouth slightly, letting him know it is okay to take things further, and he deepens the kiss, making it more passionate, teasing me with his tongue. This is someone who really knows what he is doing. I feel like I can stay there for hours, losing myself in his kiss, but eventually he pulls away. I moan with disappointment, torn between wanting to reach out and pull him back but not wanting to seem too easy.
“You taste as good as I remember, Ivy,” the man boldly says, and the blood runs cold in my veins.
“No!” I gasp, pulling away from him. He takes off his mask to reveal what I have only just realised.
I was kissing Archer.
And now he has stolen not just one, but two kisses from me.
Chapter Eighteen
Ivy Archaic
I go to slap him instinctively but he catches my hand and effortlessly tugs me against his hard body, a smirk on his face.
“How dare you!”
“Don’t lie to me. I felt you, I see you. There is something between us.”
“You took advantage of me! You- you-”
“I took advantage of an opportunity,” Archer corrects. “If you remember, I asked your permission before I kissed you. I would never do anything against your will, not after…”
“Not after you kidnapped me,” I finish. “It’s a bit late to develop a conscience, don’t you think?”
“And this is why I kissed you.” Archer runs a hand over his cropped hair, his frustration palpable. “I knew you’d never let me get close if you knew who I was. Can you blame me for making the most of the situation? I like you, Ivy. Really like you. If I had known what you’re like, I would have never taken you like that.”
“You’d have stood up to my father? Really? Sorry, Archer. I don’t believe you.”
“Maybe not exactly, but I would have found another way to get you here. I would have talked to you. You’re right. I should have just asked you to come for a ride on my bike, given you the chance to choose to leave and not just make the choice for you. I know I did the wrong thing, but I really want the chance to make it up to you. Can’t you give me that chance?”
“So let me get this straight,” I say. “You kidnap me because my Dad tells you to because of some kind of debt. Then, when you realize you’ve made a big mistake, instead of talking to me like a normal human being, you hide your identity and whisk me off to the middle of a maze after dark so I haven’t got a hope of finding my way out again, kiss me and claim that this is your way of making things up to me?” I shake my head, laughing in disbelief. “Jeez. And I thought Romy was bad with women. You house guys have got a lot to learn about how to talk to us.”
“It seemed to me like Romy knew exactly what he was doing,” Archer reminds me with glaring jealousy burning in his eyes. “From what I can see, he is exceptionally good at persuading you to do what he wants.”
“It was what I wanted,” I protest. “And it sounds to me like you’re just jealous. What’s the matter, Archer? Jealous Romy can get the girls and you can’t?”
“Romy’s no threat to me,” Archer snarls. “And once you’ve taken off those rose-tinted glasses you wear when you look at him, you’ll see why. Ivy, unlike him, I don’t just want you for one thing. I want to get to know you, take you out on a date, even. I’ve spoken to your father and-”
The minute he says it, he realises his mistake.
“So it’s up to my father who I get to date? Is that it? You really are something else, you know that, Archer?”
“I don’t mean it like that! Ivy, if you can just calm down for a second-”
“Oh, I am calm,” I say. “Deadly calm. The really sad thing is that you’re just my type. Romy? He’s the kind of guy you hang out with for a bit of fun, but he’s not someone I could ever be serious about. But you? You’ve got everything I look for in a guy. You’re tall, sexy, and you have a cool motorbike.”
I can see Archer positively preening himself with every compliment.
“There’s only one problem, though. You’re a dick. Worse, you’re a dick who does what my father tells him. Dad says jump and you ask 'off a cliff?’ How can I ever think about dating someone when for all I know, he’s spying on me for my father? This can be your way of getting some fringe benefits while you do your job. My father makes you hang around me to ‘keep me safe.’” I make ironic air quotes with my fingers. “You might as well have some fun while you’re at it, right?”
“That’s not how it is, Ivy,” says Archer. “If you can get over yourself for a minute and listen-”
“Me? Get over myself?” I laugh. “That’s funny. Because last I checked I am Ivy Archaic and t
hat apparently means something in this crazy town. Which means I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to do. And that includes spending any more time with you. Now you got me here. You can get me the hell out.”
“Ivy…” Archer moved towards me as if he wants to take me in his arms again.
“I mean it, Archer. I want to go back to my party.”
“Fine.”
Archer puts his mask back on and stands up. He holds his hand out to me, but I ignore it, folding my arms.
“Have it your way,” he mutters, striding off so fast I practically have to run to keep up. Dammit, boys at parties are bad news for me.
Chapter Nineteen
Ivy Archaic
Whether he meant it to or not, my party certainly increased my standing at school. The next Monday everyone wanted to talk to me to say thanks for the invite or show off their Lost in Oblivion autograph.
I wished I had as much fun as they did. After Archer took me back to the party, he disappeared off into the crowd, leaving me alone again. I tried to get back into the music, but what had happened had ruined things for me a little. I can’t stop thinking about what Archer had said. I can’t help but think he meant what he said, but that is crazy. There is no way Archer wanted to date me–is there? It had to be some kind of sick game my father had put him up to.
Because the alternative doesn’t bear thinking about. I don’t want to think about Archer wanting me. I don’t want to think about him kissing me.
Because the more I think about it, the more I want it.
I’ve never been happier of a free period than first thing that Monday morning. I need time to myself to prepare for the inevitable encounter with Archer. We have politics together and much as tempted as I am to skip class, I know Pilkington would tell my father and then I would be in serious trouble. I’m going to have to suck it up and pretend like nothing happened between us.
